


A Nasty Case of the Squeasles

by abstractconcept



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blow Jobs, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Illness, M/M, Quarantine, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-11-02
Packaged: 2019-01-28 14:14:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12608444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abstractconcept/pseuds/abstractconcept
Summary: Snape, Harry and Charlie endure a quarantine at St. Mungo’s.





	A Nasty Case of the Squeasles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [leela_cat (Leela)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leela/gifts).



> A ficlet for leela_cat on the prompt; Snape/Harry/Charlie—misery makes strange bedfellows.

“And . . . how long will I have to stay in quarantine?” Harry asked hopelessly as the Healer showed him to his room.  

“A week is generally sufficient,” the Healer said in what was probably meant to be a reassuring way. Harry would have felt a lot better if the man weren’t wearing what appeared to be a welding helmet, thick gloves and big yellow galoshes.   

“I’m not going to die or anything, am I?” Harry asked suspiciously. 

“Oh, no. It’s just that you’re very contagious at the moment,” the Healer said. “There we are. You can go right in.”    

Harry wandered into the room, which had three beds, one of them occupied. The door clanged shut behind him. “Er, hello,” he said, and the figure sat up and gave him a grin. “Charlie?”  

 Before Charlie could answer, the door slammed open again. Three orderlies were manhandling an irate Severus Snape into the room. “Unhand me! I’ll slap St. Mungo’s with the most enormous lawsuit ever! Ruffians! Brutes! Beer-swilling, nit-plucking bastards!”  

 “Wow, calm down,” Harry said, but Snape ignored him.  

The orderlies backed out, carefully shutting the door behind them and locking it. Snape beat his fists against it, snarling, “I demand egress!”   

Harry scratched his head. “What have birds got to do with anything?”  

Snape’s left eye twitched, but before he could respond a window on the door slid open. “Let me out!” he snapped.   

“Mr. Snape, that is simply not possible! The three of you have the nastiest case of the squeasles that I’ve ever seen!” the Healer informed him. “You must be quarantined! Really, you should have been vaccinated when you were three years old.”  

Snape huffed as the man stared at him. “My father wouldn’t allow it,” he said.  

Charlie shrugged. “We didn’t have the money.”   

Harry gestured helplessly. “I don’t think the Dursleys knew, but I’m pretty sure they’d be thrilled if I died of squeasles.”  

“You can’t die of squeasles,” Charlie said. “That’s why they didn’t bother to immunize me.” He gave Harry a broad grin. “I’m the only squeasley Weasley at the moment, so I had to be quarantined to prevent the rest of the family getting it. It’s really only dangerous to small children.”

“In any case, please resign yourselves to the quarantine. It’s only for one week and your needs will be met, I assure you,” the Healer said, sounding exasperated. The window closed as Snape glowered at it.

“What’s your problem, anyway?” Harry asked him. “You seem even more . . .” _completely frothing with rage than usual,_ he thought, but then thought better of it. “I mean, you, er, seem angry. Angrier, that is,” he added.

“I had a great bloody cauldron full of the Draught of Peace ready to be bottled and sold!” Snape informed them angrily.

“You could use some,” Charlie noted.

“Now it’s all going to be spoilt! Do you have any idea how much that will cost me?”

Harry opened his mouth to say something pithy when the room went sideways.

“Whoops!” Charlie exclaimed, managing to leap across a bed and catch Harry just before he hit the floor. “Dizzy spells, eh?” he said as Harry blinked dazedly up at him. “Better grab a bed, mate.”

Harry nodded and allowed Charlie to steer him to the nearest bed. “Yeah, that was why I came in. I was on my broom this morning and ended up going head-over-heels into a lake. The shallow part, luckily, or I might have drowned.”

Charlie made a face. “Yeah, I’ve been getting them too.” As if to demonstrate he crossed his eyes and swayed back and forth, looking loopy enough to make Harry laugh.

Snape was next; he simply fell over like a great tree. “Well, thank you very much,” he griped as he struggled back onto his feet and staggered to a bed. “When it’s Potter you absolutely race to save him—I just get to kiss the carpet.”

“Most action you’ve had in years, I bet,” Harry chirped.

“Anyway, I thought you’d scream rape or something if I dared lay a hand on you. I saw you with those orderlies,” Charlie noted.

Harry’s head flopped back on his pillow. “You know, I hate being sick,” he sighed. “It’s really miserable.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s kind of—you know—scary,” he admitted, feeling bashful.

Snape let out a snort of epic proportions. He did have the right nose for it, Harry had to admit. “Don’t be ridiculous, Potter. You must have spent half your life in the hospital wing.”

“But I was hardly ever sick,” Harry objected.

“Unless stupidity is an illness, in which case you have a chronic case.”

Harry made a face at the man. “I got into trouble, yeah, but it’s not the same.”

“Why not?” Charlie asked curiously.

“Well, you know. Just a broken bone or something—Madam Pomfrey’d have you back on your feet in a second. But I didn’t get sick much at school, and before Hogwarts . . . well, it just wasn’t fun being sick. That’s all. It just wasn’t,” he added stubbornly.

“I’m guessing you didn’t get a lot of chicken soup and magazines and teddy bears,” Charlie said.

“No,” Harry agreed.

“I weep for you,” Snape replied snidely.

Harry rolled his eyes. He could say this much for Snape; you really couldn’t wallow in self-pity with him around. If you tried, he’d rub your nose in it and call you names. And funny enough, it sort of made Harry feel better. For one thing, there probably wasn’t a lot of chicken soup in Snape’s childhood, either.

Suddenly Charlie gave a great shudder. “What’s wrong?” Harry asked, alarmed.

“Chills,” Charlie told him, teeth chattering. “It’s the next symptom. Budge over and give me some of the blanket, would you?”

Harry tucked the fuzzy blankets up around Charlie’s chin. “Do you think I should call for a Healer?” he asked, feeling anxious.

“They wouldn’t come,” Snape replied. “No contact. Not for a week. They’ll be monitoring us, but unless something dire happens, we’re on our own.”

Harry stared at him. “What about food and water?”

Snape nodded to a slot in the wall “They’ll pass a tray through there, and we pass it back the same way. A magical field disinfects the thing.”

“Squeasles are _seriously_ contagious,” Charlie explained as his shivers started to subside. “They’re not a big deal to treat, if you’re an adult, but they can go through a population like wildfire.”

“Yeah, but . . . there’s the inoculation, right?” Harry said.

“Missed us, didn’t it?” Charlie said. “And I doubt we’re the only ones. Lots of Muggle-borns would catch it and might even pass it to Muggle relatives, and then we’d have a real epidemic on our hands.”

“Oh,” Harry said in a small voice.

Charlie must have caught the worry there, because he reached up to ruffle Harry’s hair. “And it’s not a big deal, being here for a week.”

“Locked in with you baboons? You’ve got to be joking,” Snape huffed.

Charlie gave Harry a wink.

“They didn’t really explain much to me,” Harry confessed. “I don’t mean to be a pest, asking all these questions.”

“No worries.”

“Are there other symptoms, aside from dizziness and chills?”

Charlie bit his lip and glanced over at Snape for some reason. “Well, there’s a sort of rash . . .”

Harry wrinkled his nose. “A rash?”

“Sort of.”

“How can it be _sort of_ a rash?”

“Well, you can’t see anything wrong with your skin; you just feel it,” Charlie explained.

“Like an itch?”

Again, Snape and Charlie exchanged an odd look. “ _Sort of_ like an itch,” Charlie allowed.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it’s not exactly like an _itch,_ as such . . . just an odd feeling like you want to rub up against something. According to the literature, anyway,” Charlie said. “You just feel funny and your skin gets sort of sensitive. So they say.”

“I never thought I’d come down with a disease where the main symptom was the desire for a bit of frottage,” Snape said darkly.

Charlie’s answering smile was wicked. “Yes; how would you ever know the difference?”

Snape’s eyes flashed and he was on his feet in a moment, ready to throw a punch or a curse—Harry wasn’t sure—but then suddenly he was lurching forward and falling head-first into bed with them.

Harry just had time to dodge an elbow, and then the man had his legs pinned to the bed, his face buried in the covers. They were all very, very still for a long moment.

“Well,” Snape grumbled, his voice muffled, “nothing like the complete absence of dignity for the start of a weeklong vacation.”

Charlie laughed. “I like you better without dignity. You’re a lot more entertaining.”

“Thank you. I only wish I’d brought my fright wig and red nose,” Snape said sourly, toiling to get himself upright and unwound from everyone else’s limbs.

The three men looked at each other rather awkwardly.

“Cards?” Harry suggested hopefully.

“Too few for bridge, but we could manage a game of strip poker,” Charlie replied.

Harry felt himself blush all over.

“A vivid scarlett colouring spreading across the entire body is _not_ an expected symptom of the disease,” Snape noted, voice scornful.

“Shut up,” Harry grumped. Suddenly he felt as though an ice cube had been slipped down the back of his shirt and he hugged himself, shivering.

“Next symptom!” Charlie announced cheerfully. “C’mere.” Harry made no objection, crawling directly into Charlie’s lap and allowing the man to wrap him up and hold him tight. Several minutes passed as Harry rested against Charlie’s rather buff chest, marveling Charlie’s strength and gentleness.

Slowly the shivers seeped away, leaving Harry boneless, warm and snug, head tucked under Charlie’s chin. “Better?” Charlie asked, and Harry could hear the smile in his voice.

“ _Much_ better,” Harry agreed vehemently.

Charlie laughed while Snape looked disdainful. “A week-long snuggling fest,” the man grunted. “If I didn’t come in sick, I would be by now.”

“Always welcome to join,” Charlie offered.

“I’m sure that’s nothing more than a good way to acquire other diseases.”

“Mmmm,” Harry mumbled, now feeling very cozy indeed.

Charlie laughed again. “You purr just like a dragonling,” he remarked.

Harry buried his face against Charlie’s shoulder, trying to smother the crooked grin and--again--hot blush spreading over his face. 

“The two of you need _serious_ medication,” Snape grumbled.

Harry squirmed as warmth began flooding outward, starting with his stomach. It slowly dawned on him that, while he was feeling strangely _good,_ he was also feeling . . . just plain strange. “I feel odd,” he said. 

“Next symptom,” Charlie and Snape said in tandem. “Haven’t got that one yet, myself,” Charlie added. “What’s it like?” 

Wiggling, Harry looked up at him plaintively. “I don’t know. It just feels funny. I can’t sit still,” he added, starting to feel a bit distressed. Harry had never experienced anything like this before. His whole body tingled a little, not unpleasantly, but like someone was running a low-grade current through him, making his hair stand on end a little. “It’s _weird,_ ” he added. Harry couldn’t seem to get comfortable. When he moved so that he was facing away from Charlie, his chest—his whole front, really—felt curious. But when he turned to face Charlie, his back felt strangely exposed and achy. Charlie had been right; it _wasn’t_ an itch, but it was _sort of_ like an itch.

It dawned on Harry that both Snape and Charlie were staring as he fidgeted and twisted in the confines of Charlie’s grip. “All right, mate?” Charlie asked anxiously.

“I don’t know,” Harry mumbled. “It just feels queer all over. When I’m pressed up against you front to front, my back feels naked. And when I turn round, my front feels naked. Well, not naked exactly. Just—sort of hot and cold and crawly all at the same time, like my skin’s trying to get away from me.”

“Huh,” Charlie said. “Does this help?” he asked, pulling Harry close and rubbing his back.    “Sort of,” Harry groaned. “But any bits of me that aren’t being touched want to be,” he added.

“Er, I see,” Charlie replied. He looked surprised as Harry rubbed against him, trying to get comfortable. He felt flushed and funny and--oh, dear, he was getting turned on as well.

It occurred to Harry that this should be awkward, practically frotting against his best friend’s older brother, but he was in such a state that he just couldn’t bring himself to care. “More,” he mewled.

“Sure. Sure, Harry,” Charlie said, sounding dazed. He petted Harry like a cat, stroking him from the top of his scruffy head all the way down his back. Harry whimpered and writhed under the touch, only wanting more. Harry rolled and dipped, ducked and nuzzled Charlie as he basked in the delicious warmth of Charlie’s hands and body. 

“Feels good,” Harry grunted. 

“Oh, wow,” Charlie said.

“Indeed,” Snape put in, his deep voice huskier than usual.

Harry, suddenly self-conscious and not quite so desperate, froze, his cheek resting in the crook of Charlie’s arm. “Um,” he said. 

“Don’t stop now!” Charlie urged.

“Yes, do go on,” Snape added, much to Harry’s surprise.

Harry tried to fight back the heat in his cheeks. He was acutely aware of the hungry stares of his roommates. “Er. You don’t feel, um, like this?” Harry asked.

Charlie, eyes very wide, shook his head. “I’ll let you know as soon as I do,” he added fervently.

“I think I feel a _bit_ like that,” Snape added hopefully. “It’s definitely the sort of thing that catches.”

Harry rolled his eyes and was about to say something scathing when another wave of--of-- _whatever_ it was--washed over him again and he gave a great tremor and whimpered. Charlie’s arms tightened round him almost painfully.

“All right?”

“Ye—es,” Harry gasped.

“I’ll pet you some more, fix you right up,” Charlie said eagerly.

“I could _help,_ you know,” Snape told them.

“You take the back, I’ll take the front,” Charlie instructed.

Harry was taken aback by Snape’s enthusiasm for the idea as the man took Harry by an arm and sort of spun him so that he was facing Charlie. “Um,” Harry said.

“No worries,” Charlie assured him. “It’ll be fun, right?”

“Yes?” Harry said, the word trailing off into a hopeful question as Charlie stroked his cheek.

“Better already in’t it?”

“Yes,” Harry said, this time much more certain.

Snape’s arms wound round him, skinny and not nearly as brawny as Charlie’s but warm and rather—er—wicked, with long fluttering fingers dancing over Harry’s hips and sides. Harry shivered and felt Snape’s breath against his ear. “Enjoying yourself, Potter?” the man purred, which only made Harry shiver harder.

“Front,” Harry begged.

“Whoops,” Charlie said, shaking himself a little as if coming out of a trance. After looking at Harry and Snape uncertainly, Charlie set his jaw and threw his arms round the both of them, nearly knocking everyone off the bed.

“ _Will_ you restrain yourself?” Snape snapped. “You oughtn’t touch the boy at all. You’re like a bull in a china shop.”

Charlie laughed and loosened his grip a little. “How about a kiss, Harry?” he asked breathlessly. “You think a kiss would make you feel good?”

Harry blinked a bit. “Possibly. Could be worth a try.” He had one last look at Charlie’s teasing smile before everything was obliterated by the heat of Charlie’s mouth on his.

“Wait a second, why do you get the fun end?” Snape demanded.

Charlie broke off with an exasperated sigh. “You can kiss him from there, too,” he pointed out.

Harry looked hopefully over his shoulder at Snape, who appeared to think this over. “I suppose I can,” he said, and held Harry’s chin in place as he proved it. Harry groaned softly. Snape was an even better kisser than Charlie, fierce and demanding.

“Oh, _wow,_ ” Harry panted as they stopped for breath. Charlie’s hands were all over him, touching and tweaking and teasing. His robes were half-off, his buttons all undone. “Oh, wow, wow, wow,” Harry muttered.

Charlie tilted his head back for another kiss, eyes blazing. Harry trembled as Charlie kissed him thoroughly while Snape took his turn furthering the undressing. Finally Charlie backed off enough to smile mischievously. “I still got the fun end,” he growled, and bent his head.

Harry nearly came off the bed at the sensation. Oh, the dragon-tamer’s tongue! He’d never felt anything like it! Harry was roaring and bucking, and it was all Snape could do to keep hold of him. “Shrieking maniac,” the man grumbled. “Do get a hold of yourself, Mr. Potter.”

“Rather have you get a hold of me,” Harry answered impishly.

Snape’s eyes flashed. “I can oblige,” he said, reaching down, his long, warm fingers curling round the root of Harry’s prick even as Charlie’s tongue danced over the head.

Harry almost climaxed.

Unfortunately, Snape had quick reflexes and a nasty squeeze put a stop to that. “You’re very selfish,” he said. “Think about someone else for a change.”

“Aw, give him a break,” Charlie said, sitting back on his heels and wiping his mouth. “He’s been ill, you know.”

Harry grinned at him. “Lose the shirt,” he ordered impishly. 

Charlie’s eyes danced. “Oh, yes _sir_ ,” he said with a salute.  

Charlie was _handsome_ , even with the freckles scattered across his skin and scars raked into his flesh _._ He had no shame, even flexing his muscles a bit for Harry’s entertainment, giving both Snape and Harry a bit of a show and tossing his head, his hair dancing around his face like flames. 

Harry twitched. “Front again,” he sang out, and Charlie wrapped him in another bear hug, kissing him soundly.  

“Hmph,” Snape grouched.  

Harry planted a hand flat on Charlie’s chest—and how hot that was, to splay his fingers across such a hard pectoral—and pushed Charlie away with rather a bit of effort. “Back again,” he said raggedly. 

Snape sniffed. “If you’re sure.” But instead of enclosing Harry in his arms or pressing up against his back, Snape dipped his head to kiss the nape of Harry’s neck. Harry hissed as a quiver ran down his spine, and Snape’s tongue followed its path with the precision of an arrow.  

“Oh, my god,” Harry whispered. Charlie slipped a large, knobby finger into Harry’s mouth even as Harry was breached behind, and another, closely mirroring Snape’s every movement. They slipped in and out of his body, stroking and plunging in tandem. 

Snape paused, and Charlie followed suit, causing Harry to groan with disappointment. Snape began undressing, and Harry completely forgot his sickness at the sight. Weedy and pale, Snape wasn’t much to look at in comparison with Charlie—except for one area. “Holy hell,” Harry murmured. 

“Front or back?” Snape asked. 

Harry did not know what to say to that. There was no way that monstrous thing was going to fit in _any_ orifice—not without a lot of magic and maybe a miracle besides. 

“Front, or _back_ , Potter?” Snape demanded, impatient.  

“Um, I don’t think—” 

“Both sides, now,” Charlie burst in. 

“What?” 

“I’m having that itchy thing too now,” Charlie said quickly. “Sort of funny and hot and cold and I need to be touched a lot—like, _yesterday._ ” 

“So am I,” Snape hurried to add. “Stands to reason. We’ve all got it.” 

“Oh,” Harry said, and reached for Charlie. “Ohhhhh.” 

It took a bit of effort, but it didn’t hurt when Snape entered him. And anyway, Harry’s attention was fully occupied. And with Snape thrusting into him from behind and Charlie’s red curls tickling the tip of his nose, Harry felt being sick had never been quite this much fun.  

Suddenly Snape stilled, fingernails digging into Harry’s hips. “Good boy,” he said hoarsely, and reached around to gently cup Harry’s balls. Harry cried out, the noise muffled around Charlie’s prick, which gave a great throb. Harry pulled back just in time to turn his head. 

“Sorry,” Charlie gasped as Harry wiped his face with the back of his hand. “You took me by surprise, that—thing you did with your throat.” 

Harry blushed. “Remind me and I’ll do it again later,” he said. 

Charlie blinked at him. “Seriously?” 

Harry laughed. “Well, we have a week left.” 

With a broad smile, Charlie tackled him. 

A little while later they were tangled in a sweaty heap, Charlie snoring softly and Snape pissing and moaning about how unsanitary it all was. Harry rested his head on Snape’s arm. “Snape?” he said.  

“Hmm?” 

“I knew an egress wasn’t a bird,” Harry said. “I was just trying to wind you up.” 

“Why are you telling me this, exactly?” 

Harry shrugged. “In the interests of full disclosure, I guess.” 

“I see. Potter?” 

“Yeah?” 

“That sensation of needing to be touched—I—didn’t really experience it.” 

“Oh. And why are you telling me that, exactly?” 

Snape looked at him. “In the interests of full disclosure,” he said. 

Harry smiled a bit. 

“And . . .” 

“And I think I’m experiencing it now.” 

Harry’s smile broadened. “On your back,” he suggested. “I can straddle you.” 

“What about Weasley?” 

“If he wakes up, he can help. After all, he’ll probably start exhibiting the symptom next.” 

Snape smiled. “Right.”


End file.
